


I Don't Even Know His Last Name

by Corycides



Series: Bullets and Arrows [6]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben and his kids saved Maggie's life, they're all she has. So any problems need to be her fault, because then she had a chance of fixing them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Even Know His Last Name

It didn't mean anything. She loved Ben.

Maggie braced her hand against the wall, breathing raggedly as the big man thrust raggedly into her. His arm was hooked around her stomach, holding her up as her knees trembled, and his breath was hot against her neck. She reached down and pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles as she chased her orgasm. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, pinning it against the wall.

'Now what's the point of nasty sex with a stranger if you have to do all the work yourself?' he asked. 

'You tell me, I wasn't planning on it.'

'Keep your hands where I can see 'em,' he ordered. She moved her feet and straightened her elbows so both palms where braced firmly against the wall. He bit her shoulder, rough stubble scraping against tender skin, and shifted the angle of her hips so he could get deeper inside her. Each thrust jarred through her body, making her shoulders ache, as his dick hit the sweet spot between ache and pleasure.

It wasn't about Ben, this sweaty, mostly-dressed fuck in a shabby motel room. It was about a sweaty, mostly-dressed fuck. Nothing more.

The muscles in her thighs clenched and she whimpered, closing her eyes and biting her lip. Pleasure coiled in her stomach, like a weight of hot sand in the cradle of her groin, and his gorilla paw of a hand grabbed roughly between her legs. She hissed, ready to snap it wasn't taffy, but actually that - the rough press of his fingers - was just...right.

She came hard, shuddering and screaming until he got his hand over her mouth. His fingers smelt of sex and her. She thought about biting him, but she didn't want anyone hearing her. She was meant to here under duress to take care of the milita wounded, the only actual doctor in a 100 miles, not to fuck their captain. 

Once she stopped shuddering, he pulled out and spun her around, pressing her back against the wall. She squeezed her thighs tight together and he fucked the tight cleft of them, dick slipping in the wetness of her, until he spent himself over her with a grunt.

Maggie shoved him away and scraped the spunk off her thighs, shaking with the ebb of pleasure and the slow build of shame. He hitched his pants up and fumbled in his pockets, coming up with a handkerchief.

'Here,' he said, holding it out. 

Like him it was grubby and a bit worn, better than a rag but not by much. It was still surprisingly touching. Maggie took it off him. 'Thanks.'

She tidied herself up while he grabbed a bottle of vodka from his bag and lay down on the bed. 'It's dark,' he said. 'If you want to stay-'

'I have a boyfriend,' she said quickly. 'I'm not leaving him.'

'-you can have the floor,' he finished. He grinned when she glared at him suspiciously and put his arms behind his head. 'I've spent the last year on border patrol, skirmishing over a half mile of territory that's mostly possums and car parks. This is the first time I've had a bed in a month. If you were _actually_ Kate Middleton instead of just sounding like her? I'd still not wanna share the quilt.'

He gave her a pillow and blanket in the end, and she made herself a bed in the corner. It wasn't the worst place she'd ever slept.

After a few swigs of vodka the captain propped himself up his elbow and snuffed out the candle, dropping the room into darkness. Maggie wrapped her arms around the pillow and closed her eyes, shifting to try and get comfortable around the dull ache in her groin and the heavy funk of fucking that hung over the room.

Tomorrow she'd go home and Ben would be glad to see her safe and maybe even Charlie would be scratchily relieved she wasn't dead. Everything would go back to the way it was and she'd tell herself a whole lot of lies about why she'd done this. That it felt like a betrayal to be happy, that she missed the adrenaline rush of danger, that she was just a cow. Just this once though, before she started lying – this was about Ben.

She loved him, but sometimes she felt like she didn't know him. They shared a house, a bed, a life and in a weird, sick way she felt closer to the snoring militia captain. It hadn't been pretty or meaningful, but fucking him had been honest enough. 

Ben kept himself at a remove she didn't understand. Sometimes it was just a crack between them, but the she'd ask something like what Rachel had done before the kids or how they'd gotten Danny into that trial foetal programmed and it turned into a chasm.

Sometimes it felt like he could just...go, that he couldn't let her get too close in case she weighed him down. That terrified her. So she fucked around behind his back, so the distance was fault and the silence was full of her secrets. If it was fault, if she was to blame, then she could fix it.

She dozed off. The captain saw her off in the morning with a slap on the ass and a wink. 'And they say doctors don't have a good bedside manner any more.'

  
  


  
  



End file.
